Cookies by Corporal
by TheHeroineIsMe
Summary: A story of a modern, ex-military Levi and Petra who end up getting hitched, having a kid and opening a bakery. Though its called Cookies by Corporal— they don't really sell cookies. An unsuspecting 104th gets a job at the strange institution, resulting in confusion, tears and laughter for all-er-...some. {{ Jeankasa, with Rivetra / Levi x Petra, AruAni and Springles tie-ins. }}
1. Help Wanted

_A/N: This may be continued, if anyone's interested. The story is very silly, and the majority of 'plot' is just making friends, "look-we-are-alive-sort-of-AU-thing". It trails the development of several relationships (AruAni, Springles, Rivetra (mostly pre-developed), Jeankasa, Mobuhan (pre-developed). I'm sort of nervous about it, as it is the first time I'm writing many of these characters. I am not familiar with their characterisation, so please have patience and forgive me if it falls OOC. For those that still care to read, thank you for your consideration. _

_I would like to add as well, the story contains an OC: Lilia. (Levi and Petra's daughter). I wanted to write Rivetra children, and although she is not the focus point, she does make appearances. Simply because some are **very** against OCs in fanfiction, I wanted to mention it at the start. Again, thank you for reading this far and I hope the story isn't too awful. I may continue to post this, if any are interested._

* * *

_Help Wanted._

He raises his gaze from the roughly torn newspaper clipping in his fingers. Sandy eyes drift lazily over the clean, sleek bakery with its large, glass windows and the engraved, wooden sign; complete with a logo that looks more militant than related to baked goods: Two wings crossed starkly over a patch-shaped emblem. To the right, it reads: _Cookies by Corporal. _He looks down to the ad again, checking that this is really the place; a military themed bakery? Fucking weird. His eyes glance lazily over the wrinkled, newspaper ad: _Help Wanted. Paid. No shitty brats._ Haaaah? No shitty brats? Just what kind of ad _is_ this? If his parents weren't cutting him off from Mama's wallet, he wouldn't be here in the first place. A job; work, wasn't exactly what he wanted, but without one, he wouldn't really be capable of enjoying the last semesters of his high school experience.

He steps into the place, slipping the folded ad back into his pocket, glancing about somewhat idly; one of his hands in his pockets, the other one flipping out his phone to check the time—ah, he's like 10 minutes late. Shit. Well, if he gets the job- this place couldn't be so bad, right? Just baking? No heavy labor or anything of the sort. Should be a piece of cake, hah. Literally.

A small-statured man, dressed in a full suit with a cravat, sharp eyes, oven mitts and ruffled apron enters the room, taking a seat behind the counter atop a tall stool.

"Kirschtein, I presume?"

Jean's more than slightly surprised by the manner in which the other speaks to him, having the strongest desire to laugh at the man's appearance; his threatening gaze paired with his dapper attire aside from his ruffle-edged apron and the white cloth tied over his silky black locks to protect him… from getting flour in his hair maybe? Heh. This guy was a strange one. Boastful words pour from his mouth, somewhat smugly tilting his head up as he responds.

"Heh. That's me."

"You're fucking late, shithead."

"Levi!"

A woman enters the room through the same doorway the aproned man just did minutes ago, a scolding look painted over her face; her brow crinkled and mouth open as she bickers with him. The male responds with an inquisitive rolling sound from his throat, speaking flatly.

"Hnnn? It's fucking true, Petra. 12 minutes."

"I don't care, Levi! That's not the way to approach this!"

He quirks a brow, snaking an arm around her waist so as to pull her against him as he sits, looking up to her with sharp eyes; his face otherwise deadpan.

"Then what is, Petra?"

She giggles lightly, leaning over to caress either side of his face in her hands, pulling his face to her own, nuzzling him with esmiko kisses before she flirtatiously does the same with searing lips, her eyes aglow.

"Hnnnn?" He teasingly inquires; that same inquisitive, rolling sound pouring from his throat as she separates their locked lips.

"Oh, Captain—" Her voice is playful and somewhat cooing as she speaks to the love of her life—cutting herself off prematurely as she turns to Jean, smiling genuinely, honey fringe playing at her brow; also covered by a simple white cloth and ruffled apron.

"A-Ah! Please excuse that… Kirschtein, was it? What's your first name?"

"E—Eh, Jean." He's more than slightly perplexed by what's just taken place before him.

The curve of her lips widens, copper eyes thinning in greeting. "Well, Jean. I'm Petra, and this is Levi. We own this bakery. What do you know about baking?"

"Eh- Nothing. But I make a mean omurice."

Levi scoffs and Petra shoots him a warning look; her honey eyes alive with firey daggers. "That's all right. We didn't either when we first started.

"I said Shitty Brats need not apply."

"Levi!" She sighs out aggravatedly. "Please ignore him for the moment, Jean. His apron's on too tight today."

"Hnnn? Would you rather I removed it, Petra?"

Her freckle-spiced cheeks paint a deep shade of pink as warmth fills her porcelain face. "Le-Levi…" She somewhat anxiously slips a few copper locks behind one ear. "How did you find out about the position, Jean?" She smiles rather genuinely though there's a nervous hint of 'I'll kill you, Levi' hidden behind that closed-eyed gesture with curled, pink lips.

"Well, uh.." He sort of hesitantly whips out the folded paper. "I saw the ad—and a friend of mine, Marco Bodt, works here."

Her eyes light up at his mention of Marco; such a sweet kid. "All right, you're hired."

"What?" An angered response flicks off Levi's tongue sharply, like daggers.

The copper-haired woman turns to face him. "Levi. We need the help. With university classes starting next week, we won't be able to be in as often; Hange and Moblit will return to work. One of us will need to be home to get Lilia from the bus stop after school. Plus, Jean's friends with Marco; I'm sure he's a responsible kid."

"Hnnn. I'll drive her to school. No fucking way she's riding that bloody, filthy bus."

She smiles softly, touching his shoulder lightly. "Fine, Levi. I didn't expect any differently, but that doesn't change the fact that we really do need the help."

"Yes. I fucking know—Shitty Four Eyes and Berner are returning to work. Tch."

She turns to face Jean, amber locks playing at her shoulders as she offers him a smile. "So? When can you start?"

He stares her down, dumbfounded; head quirked, brow upturned in confusion, sandy orbs completely lost, his mouth agape. What the fuck just transpired? "Haaaaah?" One moment, his boss-to-be looked as if he could murder him, the next—he had the job? Eh, whatever, it'll be easy enough work right?

. . . .

Wrong.


	2. Hey, new guy?

_A/N: This may be continued, if anyone's interested. The story is very silly, and the majority of 'plot' is just making friends, "look-we-are-alive-sort-of-AU-thing". It trails the development of several relationships (AruAni, Springles, Rivetra (mostly pre-developed), Jeankasa, Mobuhan (pre-developed). I'm sort of nervous about it, as it is the first time I'm writing many of these characters. I am not familiar with their characterisation, so please have patience and forgive me if it falls OOC. For those that still care to read, thank you for your consideration. _

_I would like to add as well, this story contains an OC: Lilia. (Levi and Petra's daughter). I wanted to write Rivetra children, and although she is not the focus, she does make appearances (her first true appearance would be chapter 3). Simply because some are **very** against OCs in fanfiction, I wanted to mention it at the start. Again, thank you for reading this far and I hope the story isn't too awful. I may continue to post this, if any are interested._

* * *

"Hey, new guy? Get some sugar from the back, would you?" A wide grin from a slack-off comrade.

It's 0642. It's Saturday. It's way too bloody early to be doing anything except sleeping, he hasn't yet worked with Marco, and this bald shorty that's supposed to be training him has yet to call him his proper name.

"Sure thing, baldy."

A monotone voice rains from the entrance to the pantry, a 20 kg sack of sugar slung over taught shoulders. "He's not bald."

"Haaaah?" A nasalised sound of confusion pours from his mouth, his brow upturned as he turns to meet the deep, raven gaze of a girl shorter than he, with sleek charcoal locks and a sweeping fringe. The ringing clink of metal against tile resounds as the measuring cup slips from his fingers, splattering their pants with flour... Yet, he doesn't notice nor can he even avert his tawny eyes as she so deftly flops the burlap against the table without strain or as she kneads the dough with flat aggressiveness—sharp punches that create a dusty haze of flour around her…

"He's not bald. Connie shaves his head."

He's no longer listening.

"Woah, man, hey!" A slightly irritated voice from the short one named Connie.

He's snapped back to reality, his face stained lightly in pink. "Ha-Haaaah? What is it?"

"The flour! Look at our pants, man!"

"What about them?"

"They're splattered in flour."

"Well, it _is_ a bakery." He didn't peg Connie for one to care so much about such things. If it weren't for the silent, raven haired girl across the counter from him laying deft punches into some sort of dough, he wouldn't be too bothered about it himself. Though, maybe that's only because it's his fault.

"Yeah, man, but if the Captain finds out-"

"The captain? You mean Levi? Why would he be upset that you have flour on you in a bakery?"

"Ah, well, you'll-"

"What's her name?"

"What-? Oh, uh, that's Mikasa."

"Mikasa." An airheaded, dreamy boy voice, tawny brow softened. He's in another world.

Connie quirks a brow at him, narrowing his eyes as a teasing smirk paints his face looking up at his tall comrade. "Yeah, Mikasa. You should go talk to her."

"Does she have a boyfriend?"

His sly grin widens. "Dun' think so."

"Okay."

He's already tuned Connie out, making striding, pompous steps to the reserved girl's side, hands on his hips and eyes closed with boastful pride.

"So, want some help with that?"

"I can do it myself, new guy."

He flushes slightly.

"Ah, well-" Don't fuck this up. Don't fuck this up. "Y-your uh, yo-your hair's really pretty and black and s-stuff." FUCK. His face stains red.

One flat syllable in response. "Thanks."

He swallows hard, rubbing the back of his head somewhat idly with an upturned brow, sandy eyes averted from hers of ash. Be cool. Be cool. Yeah. Okay, so you don't really know her—that's alright. So what can we talk about? Oh, work. Yeah, work—everyone hates work. Okay, you got this, Jean.  
He attempts to put on his best smirk, his elbows pressing against the stainless steel counter as he leans back. "This job's really bogus, you know? Like, we work at 'Cookies by Corporal' but we don't even sell cookies."

"Yes, we do."

"Yeah, but it's like—mostly cakes, you know? And what's up with that Levi guy? It's like he's got a stick stuck up his ass."

She gives a final punch—harsher than the others, into the bread dough, darting sharp, harsh eyes to the loudmouthed boy though she speaks flatly. "I like this job. I like making cookies. I like making cakes. I like working with Eren. I like the Captain."  
He swallows hard as she so immediately turns to meet him. Wow. He fucked this up. However, his embarrassment is ended prematurely by a call from the back.

"Hey, Mikasa!"

"Eren." A light tone of desperation in her voice as she turns from the table, carrying the remains of the 20 kg sack of sugar with her without issue from the room in search of the one deemed 'Eren'. Enemy.

". . . . ." His face is flat, pure regret and humiliation painting every possible contour. He feels he could die. Pure silence grows in the room that was once so alive with his voice and Connie's snickers; seconds turn to minutes, which feel like awkward hours before the short, bald one makes his way to the snarky, new guy's side. He can read the defeat in his tawny eyes; the humiliation in his flat, long face.

"What's wrong, man?"

"Woah, calm down, it's not that big a deal." A buzzer beeps. Connie turns, heading from his awkward, silent co-worker to pull some cookies from the oven, a few he'll decorate with obscenities, saying Eren did it when they're found out. The short, goof-off's face contorts as he feels a hand slide down his spine. "Woah- hey! What the-!? What'd you just wipe on me?!" He's more startled than angry—attempting rather foolishly to twist and see his back. If Jean wasn't already broken, the scene would have likely contorted his long face to laughter.

"My trust... ... ... ... ... and more flour."

* * *

"What the fuck is that?"

Minutes following his encounter with the lovely Mikasa, the sharp ringing of the entrance bell resounded through the front end of the store. As Connie was busying himself with decorating some of the cookies with poorly doodled obscenities and signing them with E.J. in green icing, Jean had been the one to move to answer the call of his first customer, finding himself faced with Levi's pissy scowl instead. The short man's sharp eyes had flitted immediately to the shitty brat's legs, sharp words flicking from his tongue.

"Oh, uh, flour."

"Yes, I fucking know that. Why is it on your pants?"

"Haaaah? Well, because it's a bakery? It's not like any of the customers can see it anyway, there's a counter in the way."

"No. But** _I_ **can see it."

"Alright, chill man; it's still a bakery. When you go to a bakery, sometimes you leave with flour on you."

"When you go to the bathroom, do you leave with shit on you?" His face contorts in grimace, a light furrow to his harsh brow line.

A nasalised sound of confusion in response. "Haaaaaah?" How is that fucking related? "Well, no. Of course not." Really, what the fuck?

"Tch. Exactly. You don't fucking leave here with flour on you, shithead."

"Eeh, yeah… okay."

"And where the fuck's your apron? No bloody wonder you ended up with shit on you your first day. Tch."

". . . . ." He's so utterly displeased at this point and there's no fucking way he's putting on an apron, especially not when he's still working with snickering baldy and, he has no idea when or if the enchanting Mikasa will return.

"It's right there. Now put it the fuck on, Kirschtein." Sharp eyes flit to the little hook on the wall where a ruffle-edged apron sits; wide, flat pleated edging running the ivory shoulder straps and circular lap flap. As tawny eyes fall over the item, his face contorts.

A snotty, disgusted face paints his long contours. "Why the fuck does it have lace?"

"Tch. That isn't lace, you shitty brat. It's ruffled to further protect your fucking shoulders from filthy substances; like _flour._"

If he wasn't certain before, he is now; Levi hates him. Little to Jean's knowledge, Levi's words are true: the ruffled shoulders provide better protection. Plus, it was the one that had most captivated him when Petra modelled to decide on uniforms. She'd argued, a confused quirk to a copper brow about how a lot of guys… and girls, wouldn't likely be too pleased with the attire. Though Levi couldn't have cared less, and he didn't; they would keep the subordinates cleaner, and whilst she was by his side, his mind _filthy_.

He sighs, walking to the wall and removing the ivory piece from its hook, which he ties on as is expected of him. It feels more like a maid café than a bakery... He thinks to make a snide comment regarding how this ruffled piece of cloth wouldn't have protected his pant legs, but decides against it. He doesn't want to find himself faced with any ruffled additions to his maid outfit—if the Captain even has anything like that. … … … He wouldn't put it past him. He grits his teeth, heading to the back room to get away from his unpleasant boss as quickly as possible. He already knows when Connie lays eyes on him, that the only thing he'll hear for the rest of the afternoon is his bald comrade's incessant snickers and poorly made jokes.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!" Connie winces with laughter, half falling to the ground with the sight before him. "Oh, this is too good! This definitely beats penis cookies! Hahahaha!"

"Fuuuuuck, just shut up, Connie." He rolls his head back, glancing at the stainless steel clock lining the wall. 8 minutes. It has now been 8 minutes since Connie started his incessant, ear-ringing snickers.

"Hahahahahaha!" He wipes one finger below an eye and Jean can't decide if the thought of it being a real or fake tear pisses him off more.

"Tch. What the fuck's wrong with that guy? He even used my last name, you know?" A pissy, mock-deadpan expression, bending to match the height of the aforementioned, as flat a voice he can muster aside his irritation. "Kirschtein." He stands straight anew to continue his ramble. "Not Jean. Fucking _Kirschtein_. Staring me down and giving orders like this was the military and he was still a Captain. We aren't his little squadron. If he wanted to keep up the whole military thing he shouldn't have retired or gotten discharged or whatever. Tch. He's the fucking embodiment of hate. He always like that? Please just say I got hired the worst day of the year and today's the second and last day of his midget period."

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

He isn't sure if Connie's laughing at his new attire, or what he's just uttered regarding shortstack's time of the month; which only serves to aggravate him more. Tawny eyes grow irritated and fed-up, scoffing as he turns to go back to his actual job- baking.

Connie's eyes widen and the snickering ceases in but an instant; the threat of actually having to do his job is more than enough to force him to stop. "Heeeeeey okay okay okay—" The last of his real -or faux?- tears of laughter is wiped from beneath an ashen eye. "Yeah, okay, he's always like that."

Leaning elbows back against the cool, stainless steel countertop, he cranes his head to the panelled ceiling, thinking back to the interview yesterday; the blatant difference apparent between Levi and Petra; how her charming voice and flirtatious giggle subdued that man of stone and ice, even landing him a job at this strange institution whilst Levi made shit jokes and threatened him with his eyes. "How the fuck did a dick like him end up with Petra? Fuck man, all the shitty guys get the girls." His mind has wandered to the recent encounter regarding Mikasa and Eren, as he is yet to understand the relationship they share. However, Connie considers a moment the irony of what his new comrade has just said, provided that Jean's somewhat a douche bag himself.

Round, ashen eyes close with a smile and thin, raised brow as he forms a thumbs-up, pointing it against his chest. "Yeah. Makes sense why I'm single then." A shit-eating grin with narrowed eyes up at his friend. "Though I don't know why _you_ are, Jean." Further cackles.

His long face flattens to reveal eyes that only say 'I'm so done with this shit', turning back to work.

"Jeesh, I was just kidding, Jean. Well… sort of." His half apology and cocky grin don't serve to make the tall, tawny haired boy any less irritated.

"Alright alright. Well, eeeeh… I dunno. But she's really hot, yeah?" That's the real bafflement to Connie; Petra can be just as frightening as Levi; he knows. He's seen hell freeze over in that woman's honey orbs. But, he wouldn't ever call the Captain attractive or handsome- what with his sunken-in eyes and the bags and grooves beneath them, his sharp jaw and brow lines, his gaze of stone, ash and ice; enough alone to send shivers down the goofball's spine.

"Tch. Fuck yeah she is. It feels kind of weird saying that, considering she's so much older than us. Well, there's one perk to this job; a hot boss."

"Hahaha. I don't know how old she actually is though—maybe the Captain just ended up lucky and married some pretty young thing. I mean, if he _really_ _was_ a captain, he must have made good money, right?"

Tawny eyes further study the panels above him; clean, ivory little squares set into the ceiling so neatly. "Yeah. You'd figure as much. Heh, well, whether she's old as the sun or not, I'd tap that."

Expecting his friend to cackle and nod in response, he's rather surprised to find himself surrounded with… silence.

"Connie?"

Further silence.

"Connie?"

He shifts off the stainless steel counter top, tawny eyes returning to where his newfound comrade was standing just seconds ago. In place of a little bald goofball, he finds himself faced with Levi, form rigid and tight, a clenched jaw, ashen eyes like knives; a strange, threatening sort of deadpan. This man looks as if he's killed people—and he's not done. Where's Connie? Wh-what the fuck did he do with Connie? Without averting his sharp, stone orbs from his subordinate's form, the harsh man raises an arm with a pen to draw a perfectly straight line in crimson through a name on the time sheet: Jean Kirschtein.


	3. What the fuck is this?

_A/N: The story is very silly, and the majority of 'plot' is just making friends, "look-we-are-alive-sort-of-AU-thing". It trails the development of several relationships: AruAni, Springles, Rivetra (mostly pre-developed), Jeankasa(focus), Mobuhan (pre-developed). I'm sort of nervous about it, as it is the first time I'm writing many of these characters. I am not familiar with their characterisation, so please have patience and forgive me if it falls OOC. For those that still care to read, thank you for your consideration._

_I would like to add as well, the story contains an OC: Lilia. (Levi and Petra's daughter). I wanted to write Rivetra children, and although she is not the focus point, she does make appearances. Simply because some are **very** against OCs in fanfiction, I wanted to mention it at the start. Again, thank you for reading this far and I hope the story isn't too awful. I may continue to post this, if any are interested._

* * *

"What the fuck is this?!"

He imagines she's about to bring up the blaring music that rattles the chilled windows of the building from the inside out- piercing his ear drums at a level he's not even certain he would have enjoyed during his Wings of Freedom fan years. No. That's a lie. He would have enjoyed it. He chuckles, a smile painting his face as he steps to her side.

"What's up, Petra?"

Fiery, copper eyes rise to meet his of sky and he startles lightly as he witnesses a look he became all too familiar with 10 years ago- upon forgetting to finish his half of a university political science project.

"J-just-." A deep breath. Amber lashes conceal honey eyes. "I'm sorry, Erd. I-I'll be out in a second."

A genuine smile. "Yeah, sure, Petra. I'll be in the car with Lilia. To be honest, I'd rather not witness your quarrel." He chuckles inwardly, flippy ponytail bobbing at his nape as he scoops a smiling girl into his arms, carrying her out of the blaring bakery. "Let's go put up your hair, eh?"

A wide, bright eyed smile paired with bouncing, honey eyes. "Mmm-hmm! Like yours, yeah?" A light tug on his blonde strands.

"Haha, sure."

* * *

"Levi!" No response.

Louder.

"Levi!"

Still louder.

"LEVI!"

"Hn?"

He steps, rather flatly into the front room of the establishment, ruffled apron and oven mitts about his frame, his eyes flat, his face deadpan as per ever, despite the booming bass backbeat pounding his ears near roughly enough to rupture the drums. "What is it, Petra?"

Her eyes -normally as sweet as the honey of their colour- are set aflame, like fiery daggers beneath a harsh brow. He... didn't expect her to be _this_ upset. Sure, the music's a little out of place for a bakery, but he isn't even the one that put it on. "Petr-"

"Don't you fucking Petra me, Levi. What is this?"

"It's music, Petra. Specifically mine. How we first met."

Following his flat, patterned words, the scalding knives of her gaze pierce his of stone.

Sure, they'll need to discuss that as well- though it's not her main focus at the moment. "That's not what I mean, Levi. This. THIS." A swift finger meets a neatly and thoroughly scribbled out bar in the time sheet –written in crimson- alongside the counter.

"That's pen, Petra." As though nothing were wrong with this.

"Levi." Crossed arms, an 'I'm long tired of this shit' face.

"I fired Kirschtein." Flat, dull syllables.

"And why? You know we need the help right now. Erd is outside playing with our daughter whilst Mikasa works alone in the back room during our argument because you fired a sweet, high school boy the first week of his job! We need the help. Don't you understand that? Lilia needs you. She needs me. She needs the both of us. Without him, on Tuesday, the store will be completely empty after 4." She moves her finger swiftly to the column to prove such is the case. "Why the fuck did you fire Jean Kirschtein? He's a sweet kid."

"Tch." Sharp glints cross his ashen orbs at the word 'sweet'. "He was late to his interview."

"Do you even remember how many bloody times I was late to my job after we met, Levi?"

"Hnnn."

"Then he's rehi-"

"No." A quick cut-off of a response.

"Why did you really fire him, Levi? I told you the high school boys wouldn't want to wear your ruffled aprons."

"You could wear _just_ a ruffled apron." Stated as though there was nothing strange to such an utterance.

Her lips purse to the side playfully. A coquettish folding of a copper brow. "Not now, Levi." She smiles softly, staring his gaze down tenderly. "Really, why did you fire him?"

"He's a filthy brat."

"What did he do? Track mud in?"

"No."

"Then what? Tell me, Levi. Erd is waiting."

"Hn. He's filthy in a different way." The words- like daggers off his tongue.

"What do you mean, Levi?" She closes the gap between them, pulling the mitts from his hands so as to the feel his warmth against her skin. A pale smile with softened eyes. "Really, Erd was nice enough to drive Lilia and I down to pay her enrollment since the auto is still in the shop."

"Tch. He's fucking filthy. Said you were attractive."

An inquisitive, playful furrow grows in her golden brow. "Oh? Is that so? And you disagree?"

Silence.

A pursing of her lips to one side, brushing one hand lovingly over the rough part of his undercut. "I'm flattered, Mr. Jealousy. Think he's going to sweep me off my feet?"

"Tch."

A coquettish giggle. "I thought not. Either way, you can't fire him for that, Levi. We need his help. He's a sweet kid." A very pleased, inward smile paints her contours. She's still got it. She'll brag and tease him further about this later.

"Said he'd do other things with you. Prompted by the Springer brat."

A quirk of a brow as she weaves her arms about his neck, his own snaking her waist though his face is near deadpan, as per usual. "You think that matters? You know what high school kids are like. It's probably nice to have a hot boss, hmm?" Her voice grows coy and syrupy.

"Tch. I don't fucking like it, Petra."A swift roll to copper orbs.

"Levi, we need the help. We're rehiring him. Now, tell me why this music is shaking our bakery."

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I didn't turn it on, Petra."

Though the concept is strange to her, she knows his words are true.

"Well, who did then?"

"Connie." A somewhat dry response to a question not posed to her.

The honey coloured woman quickly unsnakes her arms from her partner, though he doesn't return the gesture. He couldn't care less what the Ackerman brat -who entered the room just seconds prior- sees.

"Connie turned it on this morning, Ms. Ral." Airy and flat as per usual. Levi's suddenly pleased he didn't fire the Springer brat as well.

"Oh, I... I see. Nevermind that." She smiles lightly, attempting to turn to face the high school girl whilst still ensnared by the 'Captain' of this strange establishment, noting immediately how Mikasa continues to wear her crimson, tassle-ended scarf at all hours. "Do you know Jean, Mikasa?"

"Yes. New guy. We met yesterday."

"Wonderful. I know tomorrow is your first day of classes, but if you see him, could you please tell him he isn't fired and that I appreciate the compliment?" She flits flirtatious, slightly narrowed, copper eyes to the man that ensnares her. A curve to pink lips. He returns the look with a displeased sneer.

"All right, Ms. Ral." A sweeping, raven strand plays at a porcelain face with her nod. The way Mikasa refers to her always serves to remind her that she isn't married to the man with whom she shares a bakery and a child.

"You can call me Petra, Mikasa."

"All right, Ms. Ral."

* * *

"Whatidya wanta be when you grew up?"

"Hmmmm..." He puts a hand to his chin, eyes lifting to the sky in thought.

"Huh? Huh?"

"A rockstar."

"Hmmm... I'll be a rockstar!"

"I thought you wanted to join the military, like your dad?"

"Yep! I'll do both AND open a bakery!"

"Just like your dad?"

"And you! You wanted to be a rockstar!"

"Yeah, but I never became one." He laughs, rubbing at his scalp from his spot on the stone steps.

"Ooooh! No no, Erd! You'll mess it up!" Puffed up cheeks and pouty, copper eyes set about a reddened face in concentration.

"Aaah! Sorry sorry!" He quirks a brow, attempting to look back at her. He can't see her face but he already knows the expression that paints it- a cute one, with tiny knitted amber brows about a puffy face. He winces as small, deft fingers attempt to lace a band with his golden locks. Jeesh, Petra's taking a while. "You almost done? You know pigtails are only supposed to be 2."

"Yep yep! 2!"

"It feels more like 6."

"Nope! Just 2!" A sweet giggle. Their playful banter is interrupted by the clacking of shoe against concrete from behind. "Ah!" A wide smile. "Mama!"

The copper-coloured woman stifles a laugh, coming to kneel at her daughter's side. "So what's this, Lilia?"

"I'm practicing to be a hairdresser!" Erd's hair is twisted and tied about in strange bundles and knots that hardly resemble pigtails.

"I thought you wanted to be a firefighter?"

"Yeah! Like Erd!"

A chuckle. "And what about being a rockstar?"

"And I could have sworn just last week at Hange's place you wanted to be a scientist?"

"Yeah! Like Moblit!"

A soft laugh. "Oh? Well, with that hair style, I think you're Erd today."

"Oooo! Yeah! I'm Erd today."

He shoots a playful smile to his longtime friend. "And I'm Lilia?"

"Psh. No. You aren't half-cute enough." A soft nudge in the arm, offering him a coquettish smile with a teasing laugh as she shifts so as to help free his hair of her daughter's madness. A playful raise of his blonde brow in return.

"Is Auruo coming? Hmmmm?" Bright, amber eyes meet some of a slightly darker shade.

"Eh? No, he's at work, love."

"But Erd said you three were best friends when you were young!"

She laughs, managing to free the last of Erd's locks from the strange ensnarement her daughter created. "Well yeah, we were. We still are."

"So then where's Auruo? Best friends do everything together!"

"Well, you'll see him tomorrow."

"Will I?!" Bright eyes.

"Yep. After school. Whilst Papa and I are here at the bakery."

Her sparkling face falters a little. "Oh... you mean I won't see Mr. Moblit and Hange anymore?"

A soft smile, ruffling the well-smoothed scalp of her daughter's new hairdo. "Oh, you will. They're not going anywhere. They just can't watch you after school. They have to go back to work and be scientists!" A boop on the nose.

"Ooooh! I want to be a scientist!"

She's scooped into the tall man's arms and the adults laugh; though the young, bright-eyed, scientist-chef-hairdresser-veterinarian-rockstar-baker-to-be will never understand.

* * *

_A/N: I promise this /is/ Jeankasa. _


	4. Hey! Jean! I heard you got sacked!

_A/N: The story is very silly, and the majority of 'plot' is just making friends, relationships develop, "look-we-are-alive-sort-of-AU-thing". It trails the development of several relationships: AruAni, Springles, Rivetra (mostly pre-developed), Jeankasa(focus), Mobuhan (pre-developed). I'm sort of nervous about it, as it is the first time I'm writing many of these characters. I am not familiar with their characterisation, so please have patience and forgive me if it falls OOC. For those that still care to read, thank you for your consideration._

_I would like to add as well, the story contains an OC: Lilia. (Levi and Petra's daughter). I wanted to write Rivetra children, and although she is not the focus point, she does make appearances. Simply because some are **very** against OCs in fanfiction, I wanted to mention it at the start. Again, thank you for reading this far and I hope the story isn't too awful. I may continue to post this, if any are interested._

* * *

"Hey! Jean! I heard you got sacked!"

"Did you really go looking for me just to tell me that, baldy? How'd you even know I went to school here?"

"I didn't. I just saw you and remembered that I noticed the Captain had sliced you clean through on the time sheet."

"Yeah. Thanks to you, Connie." He increases his pace, though his short comrade only matches him. "Uggggh... Alright, so who _are_ you looking for?"

"Oh, uh..." A slightly nervous laugh. "Sasha. An old friend."

"Haaaah? Really? A girl?"

"It's not like that, man! I've just known her since like, forever."

"That doesn't help your case."

"Well- it's not like being head over heels for Mikasa just days in really helps yours!"

"Wha-?!" His displeasure is cut off mid-shout as the bell to signal the start of class resounds through the now near-empty corridor. "Fuck!"

* * *

"What's your name, you pigheaded, horse-faced, squalor loving, sack-of-shit?!" Sharp, militant words. Feels like work again.

Panting, he straightens himself. Great. Late to class. First day. This is going well. Additionally, his instructor, with eyes more sunken in than he thought imagineable looks and acts as if he's just crawled from the grave. "Jean Kirschtein."

"Well, would you kindly take your seat so we can get started with class, maggot?"

Someone laughs, thin orbs darting in the direction to find his gaze matched with Jaeger's of turquoise. Fuck. Electing to ignore Eren, he wonders why scary-Mc-Grave eyes asked him his fucking name if he wasn't going to use it, but imagines the answer he'd receive might only worsen his situation, so he opts to keep quiet on the matter. He sighs, tawny orbs scanning the room for a free desk. Well, this is going to be a pleasant final year to his high school career. Tch. He heads to the only open seat, a screech resounding about the room with the manner in which he so lazily scrapes the chair legs against the linoleum flooring. A plop. Turning to his left, he finds himself faced with the cool, charcoal gaze of the girl in the red scarf, which she wears even now, in mid-summer, atop their navy blue and white school uniform. His body breaks in cold sweat. Okay. Well, I mean—this is a good thing, right? Deskmates with the girl he likes… okay. Cool. Eren on his opposite side? Not as cool. Scary McGrave eyes—scary. Whatever whatever. He gets to sit next to Mikasa. Maybe he can like- talk to her later. Borrow a pencil or something, yeah. Even if they aren't co-workers, maybe he can get close to her this way.

His pensive, half-lidded stare-off into lala land whilst Mr. Shadis rambles about something violent in history during homeroom is interrupted by a thump against his sandy scalp. "Haaaaaah?" A pale, nasalised sound of surprise escapes his lips, turning back to find Connie diagonally behind him to the left. A wide, cheeky grin. A second eraser gripped in hand in case the first shot fired were to miss.

Tawny orbs roll to the ceiling as he faces forward in his seat anew. A paper lands on his desk, which he meets with an unenthused gaze. Haaaah? A pop quiz? On the first fucking day? And what's up with these questions? How many kilos of blood can one lose before passing out? What the fuck? How should he know? This is _HOME ROOM. _Not health class. Or some militant, rite of passage into seniorship.

"New guy."

"H-huh? E-eh? Yeah?" His heart flutters, turning to meet the porcelain face of his ex-co-worker.

"Do you have a pencil?"

"O-h!" He can feel his face aflame though the girl with the pretty hair doesn't seem to notice, her contours as cool and calm as ever. He shifts about in his empty desk and then rustles through his bag—paper. Paper. Paper. Eraser. Ruler. Eraser. Folder. Why the fuck didn't he bring anything to write with!?

Someone taps his shoulder and he about screams.

"Here."

His long face is matched with a much shorter one, with thick, blonde fringe and golden locks that reach his jaw line. A sky coloured gaze. A pencil in his outstretched hand.

He's the kind of kid Jean would normally pick on, maybe not directly, but at least make a mockery of amongst friends. Well, not Marco. No. Marco wouldn't stand for it. Either way, now, he… he's come to reconsider appearances. This kid's… more like one of those angels descending from the clouds in an old classical painting or something. A fairy godmother. A—whatever. Just someone really helpful.

"U-uh.. uh, yeah. Thanks." He nods, somewhat stupidly eagerly to which the blonde prodigy gives a gentle gesture in return. "Sure. I'm Armin."

"U—uh… yeah. Jean. Jean Kirschtein." Normally, he'd prefer to flash a smirk and boast in some way upon first encounters, but right now, he's so fucking jarred, his own name comes out in a stutter. His tiny eyes are wide with nervousness, an upturned sandy brow, an apparent crimson path from his high cheekbones to his ears, as he turns back to face his aforementioned, solemn Venus.

"H-here, Mik-Mikasa."

"Hn." She takes it flatly, a small hum from her throat in gratitude, though her face reveals nothing of the sort.

He shakily returns his gaze to the paper in front of him, realising he's just rendered himself incapable of taking the examination. Whatever, not like he could have answered any of the bloody questions anyway.

* * *

"Get in pairs, maggots!"

What the fuck is up with this guy? Is he fucking dreaming? Because no one aside from him seems all that bothered or confused or ANYTHING by their home room teacher's demeanour. Whatever. This'll be perfect. He –er—that Armin kid—lent her a pencil. He could like, ask for it back and also plug the whole, let's be partners thing. Yeah? Yeah. He turns to his left, a smirk already cemented to his contours.

"So uuuh- Mik-asa." Good going, dumbass – can't even say her name without fucking it up.

However, instead of her silky, charcoal gaze, his tawny eyes meet Eren's, whose face is plastered in the snottiest grin, his chair already pulled up to Mikasa's desk. "A—ah!" Jean turns toward the front of the room again, scoffing. Okay, so he won't ask for the pencil back.

"Where's your partner, maggot?"

Fuck. Marco isn't in his class. He _could_ ask Connie… not that that seems all too pleasant. Darting his head to the aforementioned bald one, he notes he's… sitting with a girl? Fuck. Damn. Fuck. Is it that Sasha girl? Or just someone else? Tch, not like it matters. No way chrome dome would pick him over the ponytailed chick.

"Oh, uh, I'm his partner." The blonde with the bowl cut behind him speaks, raising a hand.

Shadis grunts some angry spew at them that surely involves small bugs before stomping away, undoubtedly to pester some other 'maggots'. Maybe Armin really is some sort of angel.

"Wow. He's uh… overexciteable, huh?" A sheepish tone to his voice.

Yes. He's certain now. An angel. The only other sane person in this room to recognise Shadis as a total freak.

"Yeah." A low laugh with a cautious brow. "So… uh… what are we doing?"

"Writing a presentation on someone who inspires us to not grow up to be worthless maggots." Laughs from the both of them. Yeah, this Armin kid really _isn't_ so bad.

"Okay. So… for what reasons? Who do we choose?"

"I think we should choose a human rights activist or someone who's made exponential advances in the world of medicine."

He picked—okay, didn't exactly pick. Was given, more like. The. **Best**. Partner. He's smart—like, _really _smart.

"Yeah.. sure, okay… so who?"

"Time's up, maggots!"

The bell rings and people are out the door faster than Jean knew to be possible, which is interesting, considering his affliction for doing as little as required. He sighs, chair scraping the floor as he stands to leave for his next class.

"Hey, Jean. We have to present tomorrow. Do you—"

"New guy."

His face turns the colour of the speaker's scarf, his body stiffening from behind as he glances back to Armin who nods with a genuine smile, cerulean eyes bright and friendly. A hand raise in gesture of goodbye. "It's okay. We can talk later. See you, Jean." The aforementioned nods a tad nervously, turning to face Mikasa whilst thanking his new, unlikely friend for leaving to let him talk to the girl of his dreams.

"He-y, Mikasa."

"Hn." She touches the scarf at her face, pulling it up higher at the chin.

Huh? Glancing down, he sees her outstretched hand, balled as if to drop something. He places his own beneath hers, the pencil his guardian angel lent him falling against his calloused skin.

"Oh, s-sure." He doesn't even know what to say. Normally, he'd try and flirt, only to fail: flash a smirk and stutter her name or say something about her hair being pretty and shiny before adding something awkward like it being from her oils. So, for once, he tells himself the best thing to do… is turn and go. Yeah. Okay. Play it cool. He nods, speaking as he turns from her, holding his briefcase style bag over his shoulder with a few fingers. "See you, Mikasa."

"Wait."

H-huh? Did… he… did he hear that correctly? "Uh. Yeah. Oh yeah. Huh? What is it?" His speech grows far too rapid, clearly over-eager, though the solemn girl before him doesn't seem to read it as awkward in the least.

"Ms. Ral says you aren't fired."

"O-oh." Should he be happy about this? He never really liked the job—the whole like three days he worked there. Okay—penis cookies with Connie and freezing Eren's apron just before the Captain came in were pretty cool. And—well, working with Mikasa is like a dream come true but… damn, so much of it sucked. "Thanks for telling me."

"Ms. Ral says thank you."

"Haaah?"

"For the compliment you gave her."

His face is set aflame by her flat words. Do—does _she_ know what he said? Really… Mikasa or Petra knowing would be bad, but—both? Both would be worse.

"Ah—a—" His stammers are ended prematurely by the voice of another.

"Come on, let's go, Mikasa."

"Ah, Eren."

The aforementioned touches the end of her raven locks as they head from his side, Jean- newly invisible to the girl with the crimson scarf. "You should cut your hair."

"Alright."

…

Yeah, he really hates Eren.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to all that have reviewed thus far; critique or positivity. Your words are invaluable._


End file.
